


The Best Way to Enjoy Dessert

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-06
Updated: 2008-11-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: A small mishap leads to mutual enjoyment.





	The Best Way to Enjoy Dessert

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for Lady_Caetlyn for Valensmut 2008

“Neville, I think you’ve outdone yourself this time,” Harry said, pushing back his plate with a satiated sigh. “That was marvellous. No, stay there. I’ll get the dishes.”

One of the little things that surprised Harry while on his way toward falling in love with Neville was the discovery that the other man was quite the accomplished cook. He worked the kitchen with a deft precision and assurance Harry had previously associated with greenhouses and plants. Considering the fact vegetables and herbs _were_ plants, he supposed he ought not to have been so surprised; but then, most people had underestimated Neville for years, in more ways than one.

Harry wasn’t a bad hand in the kitchen either, having spent so many years cooking for the Dursleys; but when holidays and special occasions rolled around, it was Neville who took control of the apron strings. His mouth-watering creations made their dinner parties events their friends looked forward to, and holiday get-togethers truly memorable. The meal Neville prepared for Valentine’s Day this year was no exception.

“I hope you saved at least a little bit of room for dessert,” Neville said, watching as Harry gathered the dirty dishes and levitated them to the sink, setting Cleaning charms to scour and scrub the foodstains away.

“Treacle tart?” Harry asked hopefully. Neville chuckled and shook his head.

“Not this time. I made chocolate mousse.”

Returning to the table, Harry began wiping it down, glancing at Neville with interest when he mentioned the mousse. “I think I can find an empty corner in my belly somewhere for chocolate.”

“That’s what I thought.” Rising from his chair, Neville went to the icebox and pulled out two parfait glasses, both filled with the sweet, creamy confection, topped with whipped cream. It looked deliciously decadent, and Harry quickly discovered he’d managed to find an empty corner in his stomach after all.

“It must be good,” Neville noted, wrapping his lips around another spoonful. He looked at Harry in a manner that made his insides twist in a pleasant curl of anticipation. It increased when Neville set down his spoon and came around the table to join him. “You’ve got some on the corner of your mouth.”

“I do?” Harry lifted a hand to wipe it clean, but Neville caught it with his own, stopping him.

Leaning forward, Neville carefully licked the bit of chocolate away, his tongue lingering even after the bit of sweet was gone, tracing the outline of Harry’s lips before claiming his mouth in a lush, deep kiss. He wasn’t at all surprised to find his shirt unbuttoned nearly to the waist by the time the kiss ended and Neville drew back, the tip of his tongue licking the last trace of chocolate from his bottom lip.

“Something tells me you’re not quite finished with dessert,” Harry said, “and I’m not talking about the leftover mousse.”

Neville grinned at him, lips turning upward in a wicked curve. “Not quite,” he agreed, unfastening Harry trousers and tugging his shirt free of the waistband. Leaning forward, he began sliding the shirt off Harry’s shoulders, but in his eagerness to get started his elbow jarred against one of the parfait glasses, knocking it over into Harry’s lap.

Harry sucked in a breath as the mousse spilled down his chest and stomach, coating him with the remains of the fluffy chocolate-flavoured treat. “Merlin, that’s cold!” he gasped, reaching for his wand to clear away the mess, brushing off Neville’s repeated apologies for his clumsiness. “No, don’t, it’s all right Nev, don’t worry about it…”

He paused when Neville reached out, closing his hand over Harry’s wrist, stopping him from fetching his wand. Neville’s head tilted to one side, contemplating the creamy chocolate on Harry’s body. Looking up into Harry’s eyes, he gave him a small smile and leaned forward.

Harry gasped again for a different reason entirely, hands gripping the chair as Neville began licking the chocolate from his body, tongue flickering lightly across his skin before sucking a chocolate-coated nipple into his mouth. His back arched at the mingled sensations of cold chocolate lapped away by Neville’s hot mouth. His teeth closed around the taut bud, nibbling gently, and Harry groaned, fingers tightening further around the chair’s seat.

Once the nipple had been licked and suckled clean Neville moved to the other one, cleaning away more spilled chocolate with broad strokes of his tongue, teasing it into an equally hardened peak. Harry let go of the chair, his hands carding through Neville’s thick brown hair, writhing in his seat while Neville licked his way down his body, moaning in happy anticipation as one of Neville’s hands curled around his rigid prick tenting his y-fronts.

“Good?” he managed to ask breathlessly, despite the muffled appreciative sounds coming from Neville’s throat as he licked, tasted, nibbled and sucked a continuous path along Harry’s chest and abdomen, cleaning every last bit of chocolate. Neville hummed and nodded, his hands going to Harry’s pants. He lifted from the chair to aid their removal, moaning again when Neville looked up from his kneeling position and smiled once more before reaching for the spilled parfait glass and dipping his finger inside.

Shuddering, Harry watched as Neville coated his cock with more chocolate before taking it into his mouth, tongue curling around the shaft, moaning in pleasure. Harry’s moan joined his, eyes fluttering closed at the application of wet heat coming so soon after the chilled mousse. Neville glanced up, eyes twinkling, and engulfed him, making Harry buck upwards. His hands clenched around silky strands of Neville’s hair as he sucked hard, lips sliding up and down along his length, tongue flicking expertly along the underside before circling the mushroom head, licking across the glans with several slow, broad stripes of his tongue and making Harry babble in incoherent ecstasy, eyes rolling back. Neville’s hands gripped his hips, holding him still as he worked Harry’s cock with his wicked, talented mouth. He could do little more than pant and mewl helplessly as Neville drew him closer to the edge and then over, spilling into his mouth with a hoarse shout, shivering as he swallowed as much as possible. Some of it leaked past Neville’s lips, mingling with the chocolate smearing his chin as he continued suckling gently at Harry’s softened cock for a few moments longer before pulling free.

“God, Neville, that was…” Harry slumped back into the chair, still struggling to catch his breath, trembling from the aftermath of climax. “Happy Valentine’s Day to me, huh?”

“There’s still more mousse left,” Neville said, sitting back on his heels. If anything, his smile was more suggestive than before, brown eyes bright with sensual mischief. “Unfortunately, I still seem to be mostly dressed.”

“We’ll have to take care of that, won’t we?” Harry growled in response, making Neville’s smile widen gleefully. Standing, he tugged his jumper over his head and tossed it aside, followed quickly by his jeans and boxers. His prick jutted upward, hard and neglected, though judging from the expression on Neville’s round face, Harry didn’t think it would be ignored much longer.

Neville proved him correct, seizing Harry’s hand and pulling him onto his feet, drawing him into a rough, feverish kiss, plundering his mouth with ruthless, passionate need, hands moving to Harry’s hips, their cocks rubbing together for a tantalising, all too brief time. Drawing back, Neville urged him to turn around, bending him over the kitchen table and reaching for the parfait glass yet again.

“Oh, god,” Harry moaned at the first touch of chocolate drawn along the planes of his shoulder blades. Neville painted another long line down the length of Harry’s spine, the mousse cool and moist on his skin. Neville’s mouth replaced his finger soon after, licking and nibbling the chocolate clean, leaving kisses and love bites behind wherever his lips travelled.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the sweet torment continued, whispering encouragement as Neville’s tongue moved further down, tickling at the knobs of his spine, lips brushing over every inch of skin touched by the sweet confection. He moaned when Neville paused about halfway down, slipping one slick finger between his cheeks to tease at his hole before pressing inexorably inside. He added a second finger, thrusting them with maddening slowness in and out of Harry’s arse, crooking them every so often to brush his prostate.

“God, Neville…please!” Harry pleaded as Neville’s lips finally licked over the base of his spine, cleaning the chocolate mousse away and pressing a soft kiss there. “Just fuck me already!” His hips pushed back onto Neville’s fingers, mirroring his impatience, his need to be filled. His prick bobbed between his belly and the edge of the table, reawakened by Neville’s careful kisses and caresses.

“You never did like to wait for anything,” Neville replied, voice rich with amusement. He shifted behind Harry, parting him in preparation. Harry whimpered, feeling the head of Neville’s cock press against him before sliding in, and he let out a soft cry, drawing out into a low groan of pleasure as Neville pushed all the way inside in one smooth motion, sinking into him until he was flush against Harry.

“Merlin, you feel good,” Neville muttered, his fingernails sinking into Harry’s hips for purchase. Harry felt him pull back, then slam into him, again and again, the thrusts coming hard and fast.

Harry hissed at the pounding rhythm Neville established, hips rocking back to meet each powerful stroke, crying out at the heat and friction and the delicious electric tingle sparking through him every time Neville rubbed against his prostate. His cries seemed to encourage Neville to fuck him harder, leaning over and nipping at Harry’s shoulders, grunting as he thrust harder, faster, deeper. Working one hand between himself and the table, Harry grabbed his prick, wrapping his fingers around it and pumping it with near-frantic desperation, hand flying up and down his length as they both closed in on their respective orgasms.

Neville came first, his strokes becoming shorter, more erratic, his breathing changing to quick, light pants for air. Slamming into Harry one last time, he let out a guttural groan as he spilled into him, nearly drowning out Harry’s moan at the feel of Neville’s cock pulsing inside of him. The sensation sent his own climax crashing through him, coming with a strangled shout, his come slicking his fingers as it spurted onto the kitchen table.

Sliding free, Neville collapsed into a nearby chair, pulling Harry with him. He straddled Neville’s lap, eyeing the chocolate on Neville’s chin. More smeared his throat and further down more could be seen on his chest. Neville caught him looking, glancing down at himself, a slow smile crossing his face.

“Your turn?” he asked impishly, reaching for the parfait glass.

Harry snatched it up, dipping a finger inside and laughing. “My turn. How much of this stuff did you make, anyway?”

Neville leaned his head back. “More than enough, I should think. Enough to keep us busy all evening.”

“I love you.”

“I know you…damn, that’s still cold!” Neville gasped as Harry painted a line of creamy mousse along his collarbone, and this time the wicked grin was all Harry’s.

* * *


End file.
